


The Master of Fear (in training)

by StripestheBoar



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: But like to one person, Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Halloween, Scarecrow being nice to people, Scarecrow prances around with a kid, Wholesome, everyone else suffers, good vibes only
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:27:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24919096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StripestheBoar/pseuds/StripestheBoar
Summary: It’s Halloween and Scarecrow prowls the streets of Gotham, ready to enact his plan to bring about terror on this night.His plans change some, however, when he meets a special kid dressed as the Master of Fear himself in order to scare people. The party of one soon as another guest as Scarecrow plans to use this child to continue his evil scheme.Warnings: Softness up ahead.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 37





	The Master of Fear (in training)

**Author's Note:**

> Prepare for a fic about Scarecrow being soft with a child for 7,000 words. Buckle the fuckle up because things are about to get cute.

Whenever rogues saw mail coming in, interest was immediately sparked. The villains rarely got mail, given any letters that came through had to be checked and pre-approved. Forget about packages. So any actual mail coming in usually sparked a bit of gossip and intrigue over who, besides a fan, would send something to one of the most dangerous villains in Gotham. It was a bit of a surprise, even to the recipient, that a letter would be written to Jonathan Crane of all people, someone who had practically no friends or family who weren’t dead or hadn't disowned him yet.

“Whatchya got there, haybag?” Joker teased from the cell across from him. “Did your mommy send you a get well soon card? I never really understood the point of those. Why spend two dollars on a card and thousands on medical mumbo jumbo when you can unplug the life support machine for free? Ha!”

If the Master of Fear could roll his eyes any harder, they would be dice. The clown was ignored, simply focusing on the letter in his hand with clear disinterest. It was probably a letter about another distant family member he couldn’t care less about dying.

Without hesitation, he ripped open the letter, opening up and grimacing at how crude and crumpled it was. Even still, he began reading.

* * *

It was Halloween night. If Halloween belonged to anyone in this city, it was most definitely the Scarecrow, who gripped the denizens of Gotham with an iron fist of fear. But not everyone was afraid. Children still went out trick-or-treating with friends, teens still went out to party and have fun, and foolish adults went about their night brushing off their worries. The Scarecrow delighted in this, knowing he would make this a Halloween none of them would dare to forget, not that they would be able to.

“How naïve of them,” Jonathan couldn’t help but comment, thin burlap-clad legs dangling over the side of the building as he watched the people of Gotham go about. It wasn’t that he hated Halloween; not at all. If anything, he adored it. The costumes, the scares, the smell of pumpkin and baked treats. But even still, a malice that had stewed within him since childhood could not be ignored. When Halloween comes, the Scarecrow rears their ugly head.

Coming to a stand, he checked the time. Nearly ten o’ clock. In two hours, Jezebel Plaza would be at its peak, filled to the brim with hundreds and hundreds of party-goers. He walked to the stairwell, taking his time in his descent. They were all adults, of course. Perhaps young college students, but no responsible parent would bring their young one to such a crowded party no doubt steeped with alcohol and drugs. It’s not that he was fond of children in any way, but they were too innocent; too easy, really. Something about tormenting those who were as defenseless as he once was with no choice in where they were brought didn’t sit right with him. Perhaps that broken moral compass within him still attempted to function, but he passed it off. Children were usually a touchy subject to most rogues anyways. 

The Scarecrow exited the building, taking in the cool night air and inhaling that crisp scent of a Gotham nearing winter. He didn’t bother to hide himself from the views of people; if every person who dressed up as a rogue this day was reported, GPD would be having hundreds of calls per second. He was even so bold as to have his scythe at his back, knowing that should any Bat try grab at him, he could slip into an unaware crowd with ease. He turned the corner into an alleyway, ready to wreak havoc on an foolish Gotham, but he was halted in his tracks by the most unlikely obstacles.

“RAH!”

The Scarecrow took a step back as the small figure jumped out, waving their hands in a vain attempt to scare someone who couldn’t be frightened. It took Jonathan a good minute to process the sight before him, and once he had, his jaw dropped from under the mask.

The boy had to be no older than eleven, given his height. He was clad in shambled-together burlap that hid his face, two large holes cut out for his eyes, and a stitched smile drawn on with a permanent marker. He wore a shabby maroon jacket that mirrored Scarecrow’s own, a noose made out of thin twine rope and dirtied black trousers, a pointed hat on his head that was bent to try and imitate Scarecrow’s on a mess of yellow yarn. He even had a large stick with a silver-painted cardboard blade taped to the end. There was no mistaking the costume; the child was dressed as the Master of Fear himself.

The boy paused, looking over at Scarecrow in what seemed to be surprise. “Whoa! Where— umm, where did you get that costume? You look just like him!” His voice was one of an awed, easily impressed child, giddy to meet another Scarecrow. His speech was slurred and slower than average; a clear sign of a speech impediment.

Jonathan found himself speechless for the first time in months. He took a moment to rub his eyes just to see if what he was looking at was real. He couldn’t count the number of kids he saw as many other rogues, with Harley and Joker and Riddler being a favorite among them. Sometimes he saw a Hatter, or an Ivy, but never,  _ NEVER  _ had he seen a child dressed up as himself. The costume wasn’t half bad, especially since it was clearly made by the boy himself from the lack of any actual sewing. He had to admit, it was rather flattering. 

Soon enough he snapped out of his trance, looking down at his own costume at the compliment as if to agree with the boy. “Why thank you,” he responded, tugging at his shabby coat. Of course he knew his costume looked great; he was dressed as himself, after all. “I made it myself, I’ll have you know.” He took a quick gander around, not seeing any adults that could claim the boy. “Where are your parents?” the Scarecrow inquired, his gaze back down on the child. He would rather not be caught talking to a child by two worried parents. Oh the rumors that would start.

“They’re home,” the far more youthful of them explained, giving the nonchalant shrug of a truly naïve child meeting a stranger in an alley alone. “I snuck out to scare people! Did I scare you?”

Scarecrow canted his head at the question. “Pardon?”

The boy bounced on his toes, showing his eagerness for some sort of validation. “I scared you pretty good, huh? You never saw me coming!”

Oh how pitiful it was to crush a young boy’s dreams. And yet, it seemed to shine a light in the dark professor’s head, discovering an idea. An awful, sinister idea most would be opposed to, but an opportunity was presenting itself. This young child was alone and vulnerable, but he had an ambition to frighten those around him. He was dressed as the Master of Fear, after all. How delightful it would be to grant this young boy his wish while serving his own needs as well.

“Scare? No,” the Scarecrow hummed, smirking down at the boy from behind his mask. “It’s going to take much more than that to truly frighten someone, my dear child.” The boy’s disappointment was immediately evident in the way his shoulder slumped and he let out a frustrated huff. “However… if you’re trying to frighten someone, I could give you a few tips.” He noticed how the boy quickly sprung up with excitement. He crouched to the child’s level, unaware of the unnaturally wide devious grin that was crossed over the dark professor’s face. “How would you like to come with me? We’ll give the denizens of Gotham something truly to fear; they’ll have nightmares for weeks of your terror.”

“Really? You mean it?” the child asked, a gasp on his lips with the twinkle of excitement in his eyes. Oh, Jonathan didn’t care for children, but he was beginning to slowly develop an exception. 

“I promise,” the Scarecrow purred, before coming to his full height. He jerked his head to the building he had just exited from, inviting the boy to come with him. Unsurprisingly, he was followed without question. “What is your name, dear child?” he then questioned, opening the door to let the younger of the two inside. The metal hinges creaked horribly, and yet it didn’t bother the kid, as he didn’t have a reason to fear.

“Antonne,” was the response, finally putting a name to the one behind the shambled-together costume. He was quick to curiously walk into the main room, discovering the open side passage that had been previously hidden and wandering in there. A curious little thing, as Scarecrow observed. “What’s your name?” Antonne asked then, looking over the chemistry table that held various equipment and chemicals that aided the monster in his task. “Are you a scientist or something? I’m in science class. We’re— ahhhm —learning about the weather cycle.”

“My name is Jonathan,” the professor answered honestly, quickly grabbing Antonne’s wrist between two fingers and slowly guiding it away from the chemicals just as the boy had tried to grab them and do something he’d really,  _ really  _ regret. “And yes, I am a scientist.” 

“That’s cool,” Antonne said, getting the hint and keeping away from the table. Of course, the boy made absolutely no connection despite being given a real name. It was a shame he wouldn’t have a future in higher education, but what was one to do?

“Tell me, Antonne, do you like hot chocolate?” he asked, watching the boy spin on his heel to face him with renewed excitement. “I have some in the main room, follow me.”

Soon enough, Scarecrow was making a cup, listening to the boy kick his feet idly as he sat on one of the stools to the lab. “So, why do you want to scare people? You’re dressed up as the Scarecrow, after all, so one must assume you’re truly out to frighten.”

Antonne played with one of the cracked beakers, getting a bit quieter. “I wanna, umm, I wanna scare the kids at sch—school,” he answered, his speech slow, but it bothered Scarecrow naught. “They make fun of me because I have Downs.”

“Downs?” Scarecrow questioned, before the term registered in his head. “Oh, I see.” He had experience with it, given he taught students of all backgrounds, but never someone so young.

“Momma told me that— umm— that Scarecrow was bullied, too. And he scared them to teach them a— a lesson. So I wanna scare my bullies! So they will leave me alone…”

Jonathan paused as he finished making the hot chocolate, a frown coming to his face from beneath the mask. He supposed it only made sense now; Scarecrow wasn’t a person, but an idea, born from torment seeking revenge for past trauma. “Well then…” He pulled out a vial of bright green liquid from one of the drawers. He swirled it some, looking over it to make sure it was free from impurities, before he popped the stopper out and poured the chemical into the warm drink. He used a spoon to stir it in to make sure it mixed in well, soon going and serving the beverage to the child. Antonne quickly grabbed the cup, lifted his mask, and began to quickly gulp it down; Scarecrow thankfully had the mind to not make it too hot, but just warm enough to be satisfying. “Well, I promise you that before Halloween if over, you’re going to scare your peers so badly that they won’t ever bully you again.”

Antonne bounced in his seat excitedly, quickly finishing his drink before pulling the mask back down. “Let’s go! Let’s go let’s go!”

Scarecrow merely chuckled darkly, grabbing a few tools he needed for their outing.

Antonne heard this demented laughter and found inspiration, clasping his hands together and rubbing them in a stereotypically villainous way. “Mwa ha ha ha ha!”

There was a pause as Scarecrow looked down at the child. “We also need to work on your evil laugh, but that can come later.”

* * *

“RAH!” 

The teenagers stopped as the kid dressed in burlap jumped out from within the alleyway. They blinked in surprise, but fear was clearly not evident. One of the teens, dressed as Harley Quinn, laughed and pat Antonne on the hat. “You look so cute! Love the costume!” she grinned, reaching into her purse before pulling out a few candies and dropping them into the boy’s hands. The other teens laughed and continued to walk, past him, leaving Antonne pouting and slumped where he stood. He walked back into the alley, unwrapping a chocolate and shoving it into his mouth as he came across the Scarecrow leaning against one of the walls. The man was twirling his scythe idly, watching the boy walk over. “Why isn’t anyone scared of me?” he huffed, his chewing only further slowing his delayed speech. But Scarecrow was a patient man. Antonne swallowed his chocolate before offering a package to Jonathan. “I don’t, umm, like candy corn. Want mine?”

“You needn’t ask twice,” Scarecrow replied, talking up the candy and popping a few into his mouth between the stitching of the mask. Candy corn was one of his favorites treats to indulge in, despite his avoidance of sugar for the most part. “Now, you are scary, but you’re small, unfortunately,” he then explained whenever he had finished a few pieces at a time. “You just need a bit of help. Here, I have something for you.” He finished the candy corn and stuffed the trash into his pocket (he was evil but littering was too much for him), soon removing his hat and pulling out a cloth bag. “Do you remember those little paper-wrapped balls you would throw down on the ground on Fourth of July? They would pop like mini explosions?”

“Snappers!” Antonne nodded, bouncing on his toes. 

“Sure, we’ll call them that,” Scarecrow chuckled, pulling out a few of the bang snaps that were tinted orange. He threw one to the ground hard enough for it to explode, its sound only a dozen or so lower than that of a gunshot, with the explosion being large enough to cause Antonne to stumble back in fear of being hurt by it. From there, and orange smoke rose from it, its vapor dancing through the air and leaving behind the scent of pumpkin. They were essentially the same as he described, only the explosion was far bigger, as it was meant to stun and release fear toxin for an easy escape. He hadn’t used them in years, but kept them around just on case. He decided to give a couple to Antonne. “Try it, next time. Just throw them far enough so you won’t get hurt.”

Antonne looked down at the two balls before looking up at Scarecrow with a grin under his mask, barely able to contain his excitement.

It wasn’t five minutes later when a few girls dressed as classic monsters rounded the corner and walked down the street, chatting on their way to Jezebel Plaza so they could join on the fun. 

“RAH!” a small figure dressed as the Master of Fear himself slid into view, quickly throwing down a couple of poppers which exploded at the women’s feet. They screamed in terror and surprise at that sudden attack, jumping back with one stumbling on her heels and landing on her bottom on the hard concrete. Small clouds of toxin whipped through the air, causing the two women to cough when breathed in. Antonne giggled and ran back to the alley before the girls could register what had happened. But by then, the toxin was taking full effect on their minds. 

“Did you— ahhhh— see that? They were really scared!” Antonne grinned giddily, looking more proud than Jonathan had ever seen a child.

Scarecrow hummed in delight, patting the boy on the head; having Jonathan’s approval seemed to delight the young man. “Yes, you were  _ very  _ scary. You just needed to try something new, see?” He then placed a hand on his back, guiding him to the other end of the alley so Antonne wouldn’t be aware of the blood-curdling screams of the women they had left behind. Oh how he wished he could stay and watch, but there was a bigger show to put on. He considered the boy for a moment before handing him the bag with the rest of the miniature explosives. “Here. You keep them. I’m sure you’ll need them more than I do. Just be careful with it.” 

He gasped and took the bag, looking into it with awe as the Scarecrow led him further into the unfamiliar territories of Gotham. The child took the bag and placed it on his head and under his hat, since he didn’t really know where else to put them. “Where are we going?” Antonne then asked, taking another candy and shoving it into his mouth.

“Jezebel Plaza, my dear Antonne,” Scarecrow purred, knowing midnight was coming soon. The sounds of a riot of a party was clearly evident, even from this far away. Thankfully Jonathan had thought ahead of time to get a hideout close to the plaza, so it was only a short walk.

“I’ve never been there,” the smaller Scarecrow murmured with a mouthful of chocolate. 

“Well you’re going to be able to get to know it intimately,” Scarecrow chuckled softly, soom leading him into another building that had a balcony overlooking the plaza on the second floor. It was there that they could see the party in full force, people drinking and laughing and milling about to loud music in an assortment of creative costumes.

“Whoa…” Antone mumbled, standing on the tips of his toes to peek his head over the railing so he could get a better look. Scarecrow nodded, a grin stretching his visage from under the mask. “Indeed,” he replied, glad that Gotham was home to so many irresponsible and naïve citizens. The sounds were deafening and the place was packed, allowing even the most obvious of monsters to slip through undetected within the chaos. He then pointed to the very center of the plaza, where the centerpiece for this holiday was a faux dead tree covered with spiderwebs and with monstrous figures between the branches. “You see that there?” he asked, waiting for the boy’s nod. “I have a little game for you.” He smiled at Antonne’s suddenly lightened mood. “Midnight comes in fifteen minutes. If you can get to the center and back before then, you’ll get to see something very,  _ very  _ cool.” Before the other could respond, however, he held up a finger. “However, you have to leave this at the tree.” With that, he brought out a large metal canister, about the size of a wood log and with the weight of a gallon of water. He had placed it in the building ahead of time to get ready for his own special brand of Halloween celebration. There was a clock at the base of the device, the current time locked on and slowly getting closer to the top of the hour. “You don’t have to do anything with it. Just leave it there and get back. Can you do that?”

There wasn’t even a verbal response. Antonne grabbed the canister and quickly skipped out of the room. He wanted to get back as quickly as possible to watch whatever the cool thing his new friend Jonathan was talking about. Although the canister was a bit heavy, there was nothing quite like the utter determination of an eleven year old boy on a secret mission to do something really important and cool. He made it outside and used the giant tree in the middle of the plaza as a sort of northern star to guide him where he needed to go. He was able to duck and weave between partying people with surprising ease, ignoring the pulsating music in order to get to the center. In spite of his size, age, and syndrome, he was rather gifted in spatial awareness. 

Antonne finally made it to the center at the base of the giant fake tree devoid of leaves, huffing and puffing under his mask. He was soon placing the canister down at the base, checking the time on the clock. He still had six minutes to get back, and without the device weighing him down, this would be a whole lot easier. As he turned to leave, he squeaked when he found the string noose around his neck suddenly tightening. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” An adult caught the kid before he could take off, his costume that of a police officer. Or he was a real one— no one could really tell. 

“Let go!” Antonne squealed, his voice inaudible to the people around them. His heart was racing as the twine tightened around his neck, the officer not letting up a single bit. “What the hell is this?” the older man yelled, kicking the canister and watching it fall sideways. Nothing happened when it did so, and so he assumed it was a dud. He scowled, looking down at the child dressed as one of Gotham’s most feared villains. “You’re asking for trouble dressing like that! Was this some type of sick joke?”

Antonne didn’t know how to answer, instead deciding to call out to the only person he trusted at the moment. “Jon! Jon help!” he cried, tears in his eyes as the officer roughly grabbed his arm. “You’re coming with me,” growled the adult, tugging at the other to force him along. “You’re lucky I even found you before some creep did— let’s go!”

“Stop! It hurts!” Antonne cried, his heels digging into the ground, but it was in vain.

“Officer! May I talk to you for a moment?”

“What is it? I’m busy he—“ The cop turned his head, only to be faced with the much larger and more authentic version of the costume the child was wearing. Scarecrow raised his arm, aiming his wrist at the man’s face, causing a stream of gaseous toxin to overwhelm his senses. 

Antonne was quickly let go as the screaming started, rubbing at teary eyes before the toxin hit him, too. He breathed in the poison and coughed into his mask, trying to wave away the cloud.

Scarecrow crouched down to get to Antonne’s level, grabbing him by the chin and quickly observing what features he could see through the holes of his mask. Pupils properly constricted, breathing only a little over average, heart rate soaring, but quickly calming after the event. “Good. The antidote I gave you is working nicely.” He quickly stood back up to his full height and took a look around. Some people were now starting to realize what was going on, what with the screaming officer around. They needed to get out of the area, and fast, especially before midnight hit. He pondered what to do, before looking at his wrist, where the aerosol device attached to his wrist was positioned. An idea came to mind; it was unnecessary, perhaps, but he couldn’t ignore the possibility of creating more chaos. He removed the device, fixing the nozzle so it began to slowly leak out toxin. “Do you like to play tag?” he asked then, attaching the device to Antonne’s costume without the boy noticing. 

“Yeah!” Antonne gasped enthusiastically, once more bouncing on his toes.

“Good.” Scarecrow looked back at the building several hundred feet away where they had stood on the balcony. His gloved hand came and touched the boy on the shoulder, soon jerking a thumb to their previous hideout. “If you can catch me before I get back where we started, I’ll give you something special.” With that, he ducked into the crowd.

Antonne took a moment to register this before huffing and following after him, weaving past people and following after the larger fake Scarecrow. He wasn’t going to let him get away, especially when there was a prize on the line. Jonathan, of course, was making it easy on the boy, pausing for a moment every so often between his dodging of partygoers in order to look back and make sure the smaller Scarecrow was still on his tail. It was far easier than draggig the child around himself, and it also gave the boy some enjoyment. He couldn’t quite describe the feeling, but seeing him have such a fun time brought this softness to the Scarecrow’s heart; a fond reminder of his own childhood and what could have been had he found such a friend. Such fun and acceptance was the bulk of what he had wished his own childhood to be; something about seeing Antonne happy made himself a bit happier, as it felt as though he were experiencing a part of his youth he had never gotten. Antonne gleefully ran after him, not noticing the screaming that he left in his wake as it was drowned out by the music.

Scarecrow had just gotten to the edge of the thickest part of the crowd, their goal only fifty feet away or so. He looked back at the child for a split second, and that’s when he found his path to be blocked. He bumped into someone sturdy enough to cause the professor to stumble back. Jonathan looked forward in annoyance, glaring, until he realized who he was looking at.

Antonne finally caught up, quickly slapping Jonathan on arm in excitement. “Ha! Gotchya!” he grinned, before looking at whatever the Scarecrow was looking at. “Whoa! That is a really— ahhh— really good Batman costume!”

Scarecrow growled, taking a step back as he brought out his scythe that had been previously strapped to his back and murmuring, “Too good, if you ask me.”

“Crane. I thought I’d find you here.” Batman had heard the emergency call from the police radio scanner signalling the first sighting of Scarecrow at Jezebel Plaza, and he came prepared with gas mask and all. 

_ How thoughtful. _

Scarecrow sneered, taking another step back. He brought an arm down to gently push Antonne back. “Go hide somewhere,” he whispered quickly. Antonne stepped away some feet in confusion, not wanting to leave his friend. Jonathan, however, was focused on more important matters. He wasn’t going back to Arkham. Not today. “ _ Hickory, dickory, dock, _ ” Scarecrow recited, twirling his scythe for just a moment before suddenly thrusting it toward Batman.

The Dark Knight had only just been able to avoid it, grabbing the snath just below the blade with one hand and yanking it towards him to bring Scarecrow forward. With the villain in range, he attempted to strike him, only for Crane to quickly duck and avoid it. The villain used the momentum of springing back up to quickly knee Batman in the stomach, causing the hero’s grip to loosen just enough for the scythe to be wrenched from his hand. “ _ The mouse ran up the clock _ .”

Scarecrow raised the scythe and attempted to bring it down on Batman, but his target moved to the side just in time. Using a sweeping kick, he knocked the monster’s feet from underneath him. Batman quickly got back up as Crane crashed to the ground, scythe skittering several feet away. The Dark Knight approached with a scowl. “It’s over, Crane.”

Scarecrow just stayed on the ground, giggling as he lifted his head. Batman knew it to be the laughter of a man with another card up his sleeve. Crane pointed to the sky. “ _ The clock struck  _ **_twelve_ ** .” 

It was at that moment that midnight struck. As on time, the device Antonne had placed in the center activated, releasing all the pressurized gas that has been trapped within it. Toxin burst out from within it, the gas expanding out and forming a gigantic cloud that enveloped all of the plaza.

Batman looked up at the burst of toxin in horror; the cloud had integrated itself into the crowd much like a thick fog, making anything out of the five foot range impossible to see. Scarecrow used this to his advantage, rolling out of Batman’s range of sight and grabbing his scythe.

Batman was alarmed when the screams of terror started, knowing he needed to find a way to disperse the toxin. He called for his plane, knowing it had the wind power to rid the toxin from the air. Before it would arrive, however, he knew he needed to search for Crane. He looked around wildly, trying to find even the faintest heat signal from him, but with so many people running around in horror, that was impossible. Taking some steps, he tried his damndest to find him, knowing Scarecrow wouldn’t run away just yet; the villain was too sick to miss out on watching his work terrorize Gotham. 

“ _ The mouse fell down! _ ”

Batman turned around too late, receiving a sudden gash in his side resulting from Scarecrow’s blade. He learned from that mistake, backing away and avoiding each gleeful swing Crane launched at him. The mad laughter that spilled from Scarecrow was one of pure joy at finally having the upper hand and terrorizing the Batman. “ _ Hickory! _ ” His swing the scythe with all his might, the intent to kill placed firmly in his mind. Batman was only just able to duck, causing the blade to fly above him and embed itself in one of the two wooden pillars that held up the same balcony they had stood on. Scarecrow blinked and tugged at the scythe, but it was lodged in firmly. “ _ Dickory? _ ”

“Dock.”

A boot was kicked firmly into Scarecrow’s chest, forcing him to crash back on the ground. The force was enough to get his scythe sever the thin wooden pillar it had been trapped in, skittering off to the side once more. Scarecrow coughed, propping himself up on one elbow with ragged breathing after the wind had been knocked out of him. He held his ribs, knowing one of them had been cracked. “Damn it,” he growled, though his mouth shut when the shadow of the Dark Knight fell over him. He swallowed, knowing he was about to go back to Arkham despite his efforts. Before Batman could force him up and handcuff him to the broken pillar, something interrupted the arrest.

“RAH!”

With no warning, a boy in a shabby Scarecrow costume slid in between them, quickly throwing down several bang snaps at Batman’s feet. The snaps went off the miniature explosions causing him to stumble back and lift his cape to protect himself from any debris. Realizing that Batman was momentarily stunned, Scarecrow took the opportunity to get up, grab Antonne’s hand and his scythe, and disappear back in the thick fog. Batman looked around wildly for them once he had recovered, but could find no sign of Scarecrow. No doubt the villain would have taken his loss and run away, leaving Batman with no choice but to get back to the approaching plane and get to relieving the citizens of Gotham from their torment.

Back with Scarecrow and Antonne, they were able to get back into the building without incident. “You have no idea how much of a life-saver you are,” Crane spoke to the boy as they rushed up the stairs. “That was very brave of you, Antonne. I always say that to truly harvest fear, you must be rid of your own.” 

“He was hurting you,” Antonne replied simply, still confused over the whole situation, but glad that Scarecrow was praising him so. “So I tried to scare him!”

“And scare him you did,” Jonathan smirked under his mask, going back onto the balcony to overlook the plaza. The sight of the thick orange cloud of his own toxin over the screaming crowd was a sight he couldn’t pass. He took in the sight, a grin frozen on his face. That stitched grin on his burlap visage seemed to perfectly express the mad glee he felt at the moment. He heard the child step onto the balcony beside him, also taking in the view. “Beautiful, is it not?”

Antonne didn’t exactly understand abstract art yet, but he thought the orange color was at least pretty. “Kinda.”

Scarecrow gazed at the sight just a bit longer, unable to pull himself away. That when he heard the crack of splintering wood below him. “What?” 

One of the thin wooden pillars that had kept the balcony stable was broken in the fight, and with the chaos running about, no doubt more damage was being done. 

The wood foundation began to creak and give out from under him. Scarecrow was intuitive enough to know the balcony was going to collapse, and so quickly ducked back into the main building. It was only a good five seconds later that the second pillar broke and caused half of the balcony to collapse and crash into the ground two stories below. 

Crane huffed and straightened his hat that had been knocked askew. “It seems that even gravity wants me to fail,” he sighed, the mood now ruined. It was time to get out of the area before Batman got another chance to stop him. “Let’s go, child.” He walked to the door, his fingers grazing the handle before he realized he got no response. He looked back, only to realize that the room, other than him, was empty. “Antonne?” There was once again no response, and that’s when it dawned on him. “Oh no.”

Scarecrow ran over to where the balcony once stood, looking down at the ground frantically for any signs of the boy that had been next to him only moments ago. “Ohh what have I done?” he whispered under his breath, hands coming up to tangle into his locks of hair made of hay. The realization of what he’d done hit him then, and he had to step back, taking everything in. “Oh what have I—“

“RAH!”

Scarecrow jumped when he heard the bang snaps go off behind him. He spun around to see Antonne bouncing on his toes in excitement after having hid behind a crate. “Did I scare you?” he asked, no doubt a grin on his face from under the mask.

The Master of Fear stared at the new miniature Master of Fear In Training in shock, taking a moment to process everything. With that, he let out a harsh laugh, falling to one knee to get to Antonne’s level. He pat the boy on the shoulder with a chuckle, looking him in the eye with a genuineness he hardly expressed anywhere else. “You  _ terrified  _ me.”

* * *

“Does this neighborhood look familiar to you?” 

Scarecrow asked, wanting to make sure the address he was given was correct. He made sure to keep the car slow, not wanting to hit any lingering teens. What a mess that would be.

Antonne nodded. “Yeah! My— ummm —momma takes me on walks around here!” 

“Good,” Scarecrow nodded, before going back to their previous conversation. “Anyhow, an evil laugh comes from the core. Use your chest a bit more. And remember, louder is better. Be confident with it.”

Antonne nodded before belting out a high-pitched laugh, once again rubbing his hands together evilly for added dramatic effect. Scarecrow nodded at the attempt. “Much better! Just keep practicing and you’ll get it down. If you ever need good examples, I definitely suggest following Two-Face’s evil laughter. In my opinion, his are some of the best.”

Antonne nodded excitedly, taking the advice to heart and trying to memorize it, though he wasn’t the best when it came to internalizing information. There was a small silence that came to the both of them, Antonne watching Scarecrow as they slowly pulled up to the curb of a small one-story house. It wasn’t in the best shape, but from what he was told, the boy at least had good parents. 

“Are you the real Scarecrow?”

Jonathan paused as he put the car into park, looking over at the child in consideration. “What tipped you off?” he asked, brow raised.

Antonne shrugged. “When Batman hit you.”

Scarecrow looked forward, frowning some as he sat in silence for some minutes. “Does it upset you that I’m the real Scarecrow?” he asked then, gazing back over to try to gauge the child’s emotions.

Antonne was quick to shake his head. “No. You’re nice to me. You— ahh —taught me how to stand up to bullies.” There was a pause. “Thank you,” he then murmured. He then handed back the cloth bag full of bang snaps, having the confidence that he could scare someone without them. It was for the best, too, as they were laced with toxin, and that antidote would only last for so long. 

Scarecrow felt a tightness in his chest; this unfamiliar warmth that he had only felt very few times in his life. He didn’t try to do away with it, however, instead deciding to reside with it. “Those bullies will never hurt you again,” he promised. Especially not after tonight. No doubt everyone would find out the identity of the kid in the mini Scarecrow costume, given he was seen with the Master of Fear so many times. “And if they do, let me give you some advice. When I was bullied, I turned to violence I hurt people,” he began, reflecting on his own life. “I now realize I was wrong for that. Violence is not the answer to people who try to hurt you. Sabotage is.”

“Sabotage?” Antonne questioned in surprise.

“Sabotage,” Scarecrow nodded. “Be devious and unsuspecting. Keep a squeaky clean record and ruin their lives from the shadows. Just don’t get caught. I don’t want to see you in Arkham when you’re older, understand? You’re a boy with a lot of potential, and I know you will grow up to be someone great with your ambition, despite what everyone may tell you.” He pat the child on the shoulder before unbuckling his seatbelt. “Now run along. Your mother is worried sick about you.”

Antonne nodded, a smile no doubt under that mask. “Thank you, Mr. Scarecrow!” he said once more, before opening the door and running back on the lawn of his home.

Immediately, a woman came from the front door with a gasp, running over to grab her boy and hug him tightly. “Antonne!” she cried, pulling back and checking over him to make sure he was clear of any injuries. “Do you know how worried you made me? Where were you? Are you hurt?”

Antonne didn’t understand what the fuss was about; he had been perfectly fine the whole time. “Mom, I’m fine,” he replied in his slowed speech. “I was with my friend!”

Soon two more boys came from the house, one dressed as a certain puzzler and the other in the costume of a particular haberdasher. “Antonne!” the one dressed as Riddler complained. “We were supposed to go trick-or-treating together as the Dork Squad! Do you know how long my mom worked on this costume?”

Scarecrow took a moment to take a picture with his mind. That one was going in the memory book.

Antonne just laughed and looked back to the car and waved to Scarecrow. “Bye!” he called, waving wildly. His mother looked up in confusion before noticing just who was in the driver’s seat. Her jaw dropped, speechless as she stared at the man who had brought her son back. 

“Happy Halloween, ma’am!” Scarecrow chuckled, waving back to Antonne before shutting the passenger side door and starting back to his hideout.

Had Halloween gone the way he had expected? No. He wasn’t able to get into the personal fears into some of his victims; torture had been on his list of things to do, but it seemed that it wasn’t meant to be. However, the night had still gone so much better than he’d originally intended. He felt as though a piece of his childhood he’d never gotten to live through was given to him tonight, brought about by making this small child in a Scarecrow costume so giddy to celebrate Halloween. 

* * *

_ Dear Mr. Scare Crow _

_ My momma let me writ to you finally.  _

_ I herd you were in Arkham. I hope you are OK. _

_ Bullies finally left me alone. You taut me how to scare them away. _

_ You are not as mean as adults say. Thank you for making my holloween fun.  _

_ Thank you for being my friend. _

_ I will write you again soon! _

_ Your friend, _

_ Antonne. _

Jonathan Crane stared at the note silently. He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until he’d finished the letter. 

“A note from one of your fangirls?” Joker teased from the other cell. Crane just looked over in contempt, a bored hint within his usual nonplussed look. “It’s from Jervis,” he said simply. “You know how he likes to talk even when we’re cells apart.”

Joker immediately looked bored at the idea. “I don’t get that. If I wanted to send a message to someone a couple cells from me, I’d just carve it on a guard’s back!” He laughed. “I can see it now! Harv’s over in his cell, and he hears a blood curdling scream from the other end of the hall! He looks up to see a guard running shirtless. And in his back is the all important bloody message: What’s up?” 

Scarecrow rolled his eyes in annoyance at Joker’s laughter, folding the letter paper and tucking it away under his mattress when the clown wasn’t looking. It wasn’t until the sleeping period that he felt he had enough privacy to sit down with a pen and paper. He considered the paper for a moment, his having well-adjusted to the darkness, before he began to write.

_ Dear Antonne, _

**Author's Note:**

> Ugh. I’m soft.


End file.
